


What Dreams May Come

by NightAuthor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Female Bilbo Baggins, Fluff, Gen, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Marriage, Misunderstandings, Pining, Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Waiting 'Til Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightAuthor/pseuds/NightAuthor
Summary: Once upon a time, and once upon a dream…





	1. In A Far Away Kingdom...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because who would be a better Sleeping Beauty than Kíli?

Once upon a time, in a faraway Kingdom, there lived a Dwarf. Not a nasty, rude, scary sort of Dwarf like the ones that come through the Shire now and again. No, this Dwarf was a Prince. He was noble, and kind, and wise, and knew all the rules of propriety. 

And he took great fun in thumbing his nose at them whenever he could. 

Now, this Prince was not the heir of the Kingdom, or the son of the King. His uncle was the King, and his older brother was the Crown Prince. But he was a true son of the mountain, and he was his uncle’s heir in face and soul. He was as handsome as midnight and as true as an arrow’s flight, and he was loved by all who knew him, and loved them in return.

Except one. For the Kingdom hadn’t always been the King’s. There was a time, long, long before the Prince was born, when an evil Sorcerer took the mountain away from the King’s family. Though the King was only seventy years old (which is very young indeed for a Dwarf), he led an attack on the Sorcerer and reclaimed the mountain, but the Sorcerer fled before he could be killed. When the King and his family celebrated the birth of the Prince, the Sorcerer came.

“The little Prince will indeed be your heir,” the Sorcerer purred, “in mind and heart alike. And he shall be your doom, and share your doom. In his seventieth year, he will die, and I shall return to raze your mountain to the ground you carved it from. And please, Oakenshield,” for that was the King’s name, “please do try to stop me.”

The Sorcerer disappeared in an instant, and the mountain mourned their Prince, doomed before he had a chance to live. But there was hope. The Grey One was at the mountain, and he had heard the dreadful curse. “He will not die, only sleep. He will sleep deeply, peacefully, and wake when his One is near. There is yet hope.”

(What’re Ones?)

(Shh, she’s getting there!)

The King and his sister begged the Grey One, “How will we find his One?” He tried to reassure them that the Prince would find his One in his own time, but they were desperate.

Ones, you see, are every Dwarf’s greatest treasure. Dwarves are craftsmen and women, able to create works of art unlike any other Race’s. They love, of course, and sometimes marry, but very, very rarely, a Dwarf is blessed by Eru with their One True Love, the man or woman they will love more entirely than they could ever love another. Dwarves were not so kindly made as Hobbits, though, and it was as common as not that a Dwarf’s One did not love them in return, for there will always be more Dwarves than not who never find their Ones.

So the Grey One went to the greatest of his kind, the White Wizard, and asked him. The White Wizard had ways of knowing things no one else could know, and he told the Grey One, “I see a valiant warrior, a daughter of the earth, with the setting sun in her hair and the blooming spring in her eyes. She will be his greatest strength, and he will be her greatest hope.”

The Grey One told the Prince’s family of what the White Wizard had told them, and they searched through all the land, and finally found the woman, an Elf. The Elleth was a soldier in the army of the King of the Woodland Realm, and many years older than the Prince, but she agreed to a betrothal between them.

But even with the assurance of knowing the Elleth could wake the Prince, his family worried. The Sorcerer had found a way into the mountain, after all, past every defense and every guardian. So the King and his sister devised a plan. The Prince would leave the mountain, and travel far across Arda with his father and a number of guardians, and live and be raised in secret, far from the Sorcerer’s reach.

And he hid for many, many years, until he was nearly grown. The Crown Prince visited as often as he could, and the Princes’ mother, and the King, but the distance was so great that none of them could see him often, though they wrote. The Prince knew of the curse, but as he grew, he chafed at the protections. He didn’t want to hide away while others fought his battles for him, nor to be so separated from his people, his mountain. The King understood this well, for he hated to be locked away as much as his nephew did, but he had suffered so many losses that he wasn’t willing to risk his beloved nephew to the same Sorcerer who’d taken the rest of his family from him.

But the Prince still seethed. And then he met a Hobbit.

(You!)

(Shh!)

The Hobbit was only a tween, but she liked the Prince very much, though, of course, she knew nothing of his title. To her, he was always her Lemlel, her ‘midnight boy’, so called for the late hour of his birth. 

The Prince told her of his frustrations, though not the true reasons for them, and she laughed. “But don’t you see, Lemlel? The Dwarves in your mountain will never know the smell of the forests of the Blue Mountains, or the joy of dancing in thunderstorms, or the taste of Hobbit-grown food.”

(Got that right.)

(Shhhh!!!!)

“Lemlel, you have the chance to learn things few Dwarves could ever know. You left your mountain as an infant. You’ll return as a man, but will you still be as ignorant as a child?”

The Prince had never thought of it in such a way, and he asked the Hobbit to teach him of the land. She did so gladly, as did her parents, but their time was short. They had gone to the Blue Mountains to arrange for trade between their lands, but they could not stay. No matter how their daughter wished to.

The Hobbit cried as she told the Prince, but she did not tell him everything. For, as I said, the Prince was handsome, the most handsome man the Hobbit had ever known, and so kind that she couldn’t help but give her heart to him entirely. But she knew that he felt nothing of the sort for her, and she knew that she was too young for him by half. So she held her tongue and she kept her peace, and though she swore never to forget him, she asked no such promise from him.

Some years after the Hobbit left, the Prince returned to the mountain, and all his people rejoiced. Seventy years had passed, and the Sorcerer hadn’t been seen since the Prince’s birth.

He reunited with his family, and found himself more utterly at home than he ever had been in the Blue Mountains. He spent several happy weeks with them, before it was time for a party, a grand celebration of his seventy-first birthday. The day of the festivities, his uncle called him over, and led him through the halls to a private room. The Crown Prince noticed, and followed, thinking of surprising him on his exit.

The Prince was an archer, a master hunter, and the King brought out a new bow, a birthday present, for Dwarves, like Men, give gifts on their birthday, rather than receiving them. The Prince looked at the bow in awe, and knew that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The King simply smiled, and held out an arrow, point first.

The Prince reached out, but nicked his finger on the edge, not having expected it to be so sharp. The King’s smile widened further, and both Princes realized that the smile was too wide, too toothy, too… wicked.

The Prince collapsed even as his brother rushed forward with a yell. The Crown Prince drew his sword on the Sorcerer, for of course the true King would never have done such a thing, but he disappeared the same way he had at the Prince’s birth. It was too late.

The Crown Prince left that day to find the Elleth, with a small group of Dwarves: the Prince’s two best friends from the Blue Mountains, and a kin-protector for each of the three of them. But no sooner had they left the mountain than the Sorcerer returned, this time in his true form: a dreadful, fearsome, monstrous Dragon.

The Crown Prince and his Company watched in dismay as the Dragon captured the mountain, for they knew that such a small group as theirs, no matter how brave, could never hope to defeat such a foe.

But there was hope. The Grey One again came to them with a potential solution. Dragons, you see, have few weaknesses, but among them is a fondness for riddles and a curiosity for the unknown. And the Grey One knew a certain woman who had always been quite clever at riddles.

(No one better!)

(Or sneakier!)

(Or smellier than you! Shut up!)

The Elleth could not accompany them, for there was no knowing whether the Dragon would attack her homeland, and until she and the Prince were married, she was still a soldier of the Woodland Realm. But she lent them new weapons, as fine, or nearly, as any of Dwarven make. They accepted her gifts gratefully, but tucked them away as soon as they could without giving offense. Dwarves and Elves are alike in more ways than either Race is willing to admit, but there is an enmity between them that will not be easily swept away.

The Crown Prince was protected by the Warrior, and with him were the Scribe and the Toymaker, protected by the Thief and the Hand-Speaker, respectively. The three younger were less experienced than their protectors, but no less capable. The six of them called themselves the Company of the Bow, in honor of the one they sought to save. The Grey One led the Company to a faraway land, where he promised that he could find someone who could out-riddle a Dragon. It was quite near the Blue Mountains, as it turned out, and once he was satisfied that they could find their way, he moved ahead, to prepare their host for their arrival.

But before the story continues, you will need to know something of the Hobbit’s life after she bid her Lemlel farewell. The Shire she had left was still scarred from the Fell Winter, still more dismal and empty than she could withstand. The Shire she returned to was still recovering, but life had returned in her absence. 

But her happiness at the sight faded quickly. Her father was growing old, and soon was too frail even to cook. She and her mother tended him as best they could, but nothing can stop the coming winter. He passed away two summers after the Hobbit’s coming of age, and her mother followed him not long afterwards. The Hobbit was alone, in a house too big for one, in a town too quiet for her, and as the head of a family who wanted nothing more than to drive her out to Tuckborough. So she put aside the memory of her midnight boy, the sword he’d made her, and everything Tookish. She made herself a proper Baggins, and though she was still called ‘mad’, she was respected. Her family looked proudly at her, and said to themselves, “Now there’s a Baggins, no Took foolishness at all.”

Then the Grey One arrived.

The Hobbit was shocked at his tale, but invited him and his guests to dinner. Secretly, she’d wished for some time to see Dwarves again, and the news that she’d be spending an entire evening with them was more than welcome.

She’d thought to feed them, talk with them, and bid them farewell. Instead, the next morning, she found herself running after them, sword in hand. For, you see, the Hobbit had a secret. For some months, she’d found herself dreaming, every night, of her Lemlel. The dreams always faded, the memory slipping away like morning mist, but she could always remember that he needed her help. 

They were only dreams, of course, but with the ghost of him always beside her, she couldn’t refuse to help these Dwarves when they begged her to help them.

The journey was harder than she’d ever imagined, and far more perilous. The Dragon knew what they planned, you see, and he used every means as his disposal from such a distance. Creatures of darkness, though they turn on each other easily, can be rallied to a common cause if they have the motivation. And everyone feared the Dragon, good and evil alike.

He sent Trolls, Orcs, Goblins, Stone Giants, Spiders—

(What about Gollum?)

(Shut up and let her tell the story!)

—But her trial in the Goblin caves is a tale of its own. All that matters is that she found two things there: a clever little ring that gave her invisibility, and her courage. She faced each foe, often to protect the Dwarves, and defeated or evaded each and every one. She tricked the Trolls into the sunlight, escaped from Goblins and Stone Giants alike, and she learned to fight Orcs alongside her Dwarves, using the Elven weapons they gave to her, and she fought the Spiders very nearly on her own. It was just after the Spiders, then, that she met the Elleth.

The Elleth quickly proved to be a mighty warrior indeed, as much so as any of the Company, and the Hobbit stepped down. She hadn’t been asked to fight, after all, but to think. The Elleth was glad to see them, and informed the Company that in their absence, the Dragon had cast a spell over the whole of the mountain, sending the entire population into a sleep nearly as deep as the Prince’s. 

(Why’d he d—)

(Shh!)

(But wh—)

THE REASON FOR THIS… Thank you. The reason for this was simple. The Dragon loathed the King with all his fiery being, and he wanted the King to watch his beloved Princes burn before the rest of his people did. The Crown Prince’s departure had spoiled his plan somewhat, and as he didn’t wish to deal with feeding his captives or ensuring that they couldn’t escape, he found it less complicated to put them all to sleep.

This meant that the entire mountain was very nearly silent, and the Dwarves couldn’t hope to come near without waking him.

This also meant, however, that he would be all the more surprised when the Hobbit and the Elleth snuck in. Hobbits, of course, can be completely, utterly silent when they wish to be, and with her little ring, the Hobbit was very nearly impossible to detect. Elves, though, can be nearly as quiet, and so the two women traveled into the depths of the mountain.

They found the Dragon there, still sleeping, and they quickly made a plan. The Hobbit would distract the Dragon while the Elleth used poisoned, Orcish arrows to slay the beast. For while the men had remained convinced that they could simply stab the Dragon in his sleep, the women had guessed that such measures might prove necessary, and the two of them had gathered enough poisoned arrows to slay a dozen such creatures.

The Hobbit was able to wake the Dragon without any difficulty, and the mystery of what she was kept him more than distracted enough for the Elleth to take action. But they’d forgotten something. Dragons are dark creatures, far darker than Orcs could ever hope to be. The Orcish weapons had no effect on him but to alert him to the Elleth’s presence, and he rounded on her with a deafening roar, preparing to swallow her whole.

But the Hobbit had grown to know the Elleth somewhat in the weeks since their meeting, and she knew that she would be a fine Princess to match the Prince. Besides that, she considered the Elleth a friend, and she couldn’t watch anyone else she loved die.

The Hobbit yelled, using every cuss and insult she’d learnt from her Dwarves (which was more than a few, and all of them far too foul for little ears to hear), and she succeeded in gaining the Dragon’s attention again. 

He grabbed her, lifting her to his mouth, and in the instant before he tossed her down his gullet, she pulled off her ring and, on an instinct she didn’t fully understand, threw it down the cavernous maw.

The Dragon froze. He coughed. He choked. Dropping her, he clawed at his throat, but only ripped great, gushing wounds there. Still choking, he fled the mountain, and left the two women where they were, shocked and covered in sticky, stinky dragon-blood.

The Dwarves rushed in, but told the women that they’d seen the Dragon fly south far too quickly to follow. Unsure what the Dragon was doing, they set a watch while the women washed off the blood. But not long after the women emerged again, all the captives woke from their cursed sleep.

The Dragon-Sorcerer was dead.

Later, the Hobbit would learn that the Dragon had fled to a place so horrible, so desolate, so purely evil that he’d thought it would heal him from his woes, but instead of healing him, the fires of Mount Doom had quite literally been his doom. Later, the Grey One would come to the conclusion that the ring had been an artifact of unspeakable evil, and that only the grace of Eru had ensured that it was destroyed before it could cause any misery. Later, the Hobbit would thank Eru for ensuring that she didn’t fall prey to the wickedness of the ring.

But for the moment, all they knew was that the King and all the people of the mountain were awake. Except one.

The Prince still slept. The others’ curse had always been meant to be temporary, but the Prince’s curse had one cure, and it was the Elleth.

While the Elleth prepared herself, the Crown Prince took the Hobbit in to see the Prince she’d risked so much to save, and her world whirled. The Crown Prince left to fetch the Elleth, and the Hobbit was alone with the Prince.

He was her Lemlel. The midnight boy she’d fallen in love with so many years ago was the Prince she’d come to save. She looked at the sleeping man, and she remembered her dreams. She’d dreamt of him for so long that she’d forgotten that he’d changed in the time since she knew him. Not much, as twenty years is far less for a Dwarf than for a Hobbit, but in the length of his beard and the sturdiness of his build. 

He hadn’t been young in Ered Luin, compared to her, but he hadn’t been an adult, either. Now, now they were both adults, and she knew that she could never survive seeing him look at her like a stranger. So she sat beside him, and she tidied his hair and straightened his collar so he would look his best for his One. She told him all the things she hadn’t told him so long before, and wished him every happiness in the world. She held his hand and she kissed his forehead, and she said her goodbyes. And she left.

The King offered to escort her home, and though she tried to refuse, he insisted. “How could I abandon the woman who saved my people,” he asked. “How could I face my sister-sons when I let the woman who saved them be slain herself?”

So she traveled with him, and she found that though the King was a difficult man, he had a good heart, the same as her Lemlel’s. Within a few weeks, the Grey One caught up, having faced trials of his own during his absence, and he told them of the Dragon’s fate. The King, overjoyed to learn that the threat to his nephew was well and truly gone, decided to return to his mountain while the Grey One protected her. “But if I am to leave you, then there must be some boon I can give you. No price can equal the lives of my heirs. Ask what you will, and I will see it done.”

The Hobbit was silent. There was nothing she wanted that she could have, nothing she wished that could be. Except one. “Please, I ask only one thing. Do not tell your nephew anything of my involvement. Make none of my doing known. His betrothed is a far worthier woman than I could ever be, and she deserves all the acclaim and glory you’ve offered me. Let her be the hero, and let me fade away.”

The King was shocked. “You would ask for no riches, no songs, no prizes?”

“I have more riches than I want or need, there are better songs to sing than of a silly Hobbit, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that the mountain is safe. I need no other prize.” The King stared at her for a long moment after she answered, then bowed low to her. She returned the bow, and the two went their separate ways. 

She traveled with the Grey One for some months, and eventually returned to her home a year and a day after she left it. She found it a little changed, much emptier—

(I helped Mum carry out the armchair!)

Yes, I’m sure you did, Falco. But the Hobbit reclaimed her things easily enough—

(That sure was a lot of yelling for ‘easily enough’.)

—AND SOON ENOUGH… Thank you again. Soon enough, the Hobbit settled back into Shire life. She was changed, though. She could no longer pretend to be a proper Baggins, for her journey had made it very clear that she was as much of a Took as her mother.

(Hooray!)

(Shut up, Prim!)

(You aren’t the boss of me!)

(It’s MY birthday!)

GIRLS!

(Sorry, Cousin Bella.)

(…)

 

Bella shook her head at Lobelia’s stubbornness, but said nothing. Blanco and Primrose had ensured that their daughter was the most greedy, unpleasant fauntling in the Shire. A less well-traveled Hobbit might have said that she was a veritable Dwarfling, but Bella knew for a fact that Dwarflings were expected to behave themselves when they were even younger than the now-eighteen-year-old fauntling. 

Nearly into her tweens and still behaving like a toddler. Her parents had much to answer for, but if Bella had ever been in a position to intervene, she’d lost that authority when she ran out of Bag-End with nothing more than the clothes on her back, the sword Kíli had given her, and her mother’s pack, still filled with traveling supplies from the last trip to Rivendell they’d never had the chance to take.

She didn’t regret it, could never regret it even if it had a perfect stranger that she’d saved, but there were times when she wished things had been different.

What she could never decide was whether she wished she hadn’t left Bag-End at all, if she wished she’d stayed in Erebor when Thorin made the offer, or if she wished she’d stayed in Ered Luin with Kíli.

Nothing could ever have happened between them, between the differences in their Races, their ages, and their classes, but even so. She’d had less than two years with him. She wished it could have been longer.

The thought reminded her of Bofur’s words, when they’d been on their way to Erebor. _“I’ve had more than my fair share of crushes, lass. They don’t generally last twenty years.”_

Closing her eyes for an instant, she banished the thought. It had been a crush, nothing more. It couldn’t have been more. Could it?

She opened her eyes with a sigh, only to stop as Primula caught her eye. The sixteen-year-old was staring fixedly into the bushes behind the Party Tree, squinting as though she were trying to identify something. Bella was about to turn and look for herself, but before she could, the fauntling’s expression brightened, and her hand shot into the air, waving at Bella as though she weren’t sitting all of half a dozen paces away.

Chuckling, Bella decided the fauntling must have only been trying to remember something or other, and she teased, “I can see you perfectly well, Prim, you may as well just ask.”

Pulling her hand down, Prim grinned unashamedly at Bella. “What happened to the Prince?”

Bella gaped at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten the question, but never from Primula. She was usually better at reading Bella’s mood than that. Stammering slightly, Bella spoke as she thought. “Well, the… After the Hobbit left, the Crown Prince and the Elleth went to see K— the sleeping Prince. He woke to see them, and he and the Elleth—“

“—Agreed to go their separate ways.”

Bella froze. She was dreaming, she had to be, because he couldn’t be here, why would he be, why—

But Kíli kept speaking, and walked slowly out from behind the Party Tree, circling the crowd of fauntlings, though his eyes never left hers. “Because while the Prince had been asleep, he’d dreamed. The Prince had dreamt of his One, and she wasn’t the Elleth.” Bella covered her mouth as her breath hitched; his eyes shone to match hers as he smiled, wide and bright and impossibly fond. “His One was his Ibrizûna, his red-sun-lady, the little Hobbit girl who’d made everything seem so simple, and every mountain so scalable. That night that he was cursed, he found himself beside her in Bag-End, seeing her for the first time in twenty years, and he knew that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“He spent a year and a day at her side, and he saw every tear, every laugh, every moment of fear, every moment of courage, he saw her defeat foes twice her size and he knew that the White Wizard had been right. His One was the most valiant warrior in Arda.” Huffing out a teary scoff, she tried to glare at him, but he only smiled. “The White Wizard had been right about all of it, but he’d left out a few details, like the fact that though ‘the setting sun’ was in her hair, they should have looked for curls, not waterfalls, and while her eyes held ‘the blooming spring’, they weren’t the green of the Elleth’s. No, they were the blue of her favorite snow flowers.”

He pulled a handful of Siberian Squills out of his sleeve, smirking at her, and a laugh left her, but it was half a sob, and she covered her mouth again as he sat across from her; the fauntlings crowded around him, but he didn’t look away from her, and the children left a space in the middle so the two of them could see each other. “And he saw her time in the Goblin caves. He saw the ring. And while the ring looked ordinary in the waking world, in the dream world it looked different. It looked evil. But he couldn’t warn her. He was nothing but a ghost so long as he was asleep. But when she slept, then he could talk to her. He told her of his love a thousand times in a thousand ways, but she always forgot when she woke. He warned her of the ring, he helped her rebuild the sword skills she’d forgotten since their parting two decades before, but she never remembered.

“And he saw her meet his betrothed. Now that he knew the Hobbit was his One, he knew that he could never marry the Elleth, and he could see that she would never have chosen to marry him, either. But the Hobbit didn’t know that, and he saw how she stepped back, let the Elleth take the spotlight, even though no one deserved it more than her. And he watched as they went to the mountain, as they faced the villain who’d plagued his family for so many years. He wished that he could help, but how could he? No one could hear him.

“Except once. As the Dragon lifted his One, his heart, into the air, he could see how the ring was in conflict with the Dragon’s magic, neither one willing to bend to assist the other, and he whispered to the Hobbit, ‘throw it’.”

Bella gasped, “You—” She couldn’t manage any more words than that, heart too full for speech; he shrugged, eyes never leaving her even as he grinned.

“He followed as the Dragon fled, and he watched as it plunged into the fires of Mount Doom. Now, Dragons are such that the fires might have healed it. But the same fires that could have healed the Dragon were the doom of the ring, and nothing could survive the ring’s destruction, even a Dragon. When the Dragon died, the Prince was thrown back to the mountain, back to his body, but he still couldn’t wake. He could only look at himself, and wait for his One to come, for he knew that she would. And he saw the moment she saw him. 

“She understood, he knew that she did. She understood the reason why he’d lied to her, and he could see in her face that she didn’t blame him for it. But he also saw the moment she remembered the Elleth. He tried to tell her that she was wrong, that she was his One, that all she had to do was wake him and he would marry her in a moment, but no matter how he begged and screamed and cried, she couldn’t hear him. She sat with him, and she told him she felt all the things he’d prayed that she might feel for him, and she kissed him. 

“The moment her skin touched his, he returned to his body, but a year and a day without food, rest, water, or waking is a very long time, and by the time he mustered the strength to move, she was gone. The Crown Prince and the Elleth found the Prince already trying to leave the room, trying to follow his One before he lost her forever, and for a very long time, he was too weak even to speak. Even when he found the strength again, it was longer before he could say anything but her name. Some weeks later, his uncle returned with the news that the Hobbit had returned to her land. The Prince wanted to follow her right away, but no one, from the King, to the Crown Prince, to his mother, would let the Prince go anywhere until he was recovered. It took another year and a day, but he recovered, and he set out, and he found his Hobbit again.”

“We could’ve brought you to him, of course, but Uncle’s not the only dramatic one in the family.”

The appearance of yet another familiar face surprised a laugh out of Bella. “Fíli!”

He grinned at her. “What, did you think I’d let Kee out of my sight anytime soon?”

“Fíli, I was trying to be romantic.”

“And doing a fine job of it, too, lad!” Bofur winked at Bella even as he gave Kíli two thumbs up. Bifur jabbed him in the side, hissing something.

Ori smiled apologetically at her for an instant before he turned to Bofur, red-faced. “Bifur’s right! We’re ruining this for Kíli, we should go!”

“Ori, do you _see_ the food over there?” Nori grinned impishly at Bella as he jogged past the group. “No way am I leaving now!”

Dwalin cursed under his breath and shot after the thief, only sparing the time to give Bella a quick smile. Shaking with the laughter she tried to suppress, she grinned at Kíli as he groaned, blushing bright red. With a gusty sigh, Thorin stepped in view, and she lost her composure completely, falling back to the side of the Tree as she laughed.

“Cousin Bella! Are you all right?” Primula fell to her knees beside Bella. “Should I not have brought them? I was sure they were the Dwarves from your stories, are they not?”

With an effort, Bella calmed enough to stage-whisper, “The King Under the Mountain has flower petals in his hair.”

Prim giggled. “He is the King! I thought he was!”

“I do apologize for them, Miss Baggins.”

Snorting, Bella pushed up to her feet, with Prim’s enthusiastic help. “Thorin, how many times? Bella.”

Frowning majestically, he shook his head. “I have done nothing to earn such an honor.”

Rolling her eyes theatrically, she shook her head at Kíli. “Now I know where you got your sense of melodrama.” He scoffed, mock-offended; she pointed playfully at him. “Don’t even bother, Lemlelê. I distinctly remember you going off on a ten minute long spiel over a squashed blackberry tart.”

His blush deepened a fraction as his jaw dropped, but his offended expression turned devilish as Fíli laughed. “So that’s the game? Maybe I should tell Fíli and everyone about the time you wanted to learn archery.”

Her blood seemed to simultaneously drain out of her head and rush to her cheeks; she narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Grinning wickedly, he opened his mouth; she clapped her hands over his mouth, laughing, before she even realized she’d begun moving. Easily, he pulled her hands off and wove his fingers through hers, but he stilled a few moments later, smile falling away. At nearly the same time, she realized that they were standing toe-to-toe and chest-to-chest, though it was more face-to-chest, as the top of her head barely came to his sternum.

She’d noticed more than once that Dwarves practically radiated heat, and being so close to him heated her through, and for some reason, made her lips feel too dry. Swallowing, she wetted her lips; his eyes flicked down to her mouth, and her fingers tightened involuntarily on his as she realized why.

“Ew, are you going to kiss?”

The over-loud question shattered the building tension, and Bella pitched forward to hide her face in Kíli’s chest as she laughed. Laughing just as hard as she was, he wrapped his arms around her while Prim groaned theatrically. “Ugh, Falco, why’d you ruin it?"

“I did n— Ow! Stop hitting me!”

“MUM!”

“Oh, what is it, Lobelia, darli—“ A blood-curdling shriek interrupted Primrose’s words, and Bella drew back from Kíli’s hold just far enough to see the woman in question staring at her, purple-faced.

A small group of Hobbits came up behind her, and Bella addressed the woman leading them warmly. “Aunt Mira, could you get Primrose a chair? She looks a bit peaky to me.”

Mirabella just gaped at the scene, but one of the Bracegirdle boys behind her slipped away to follow Bella’s suggestion. “Bella, what on Arda…”

Prim bounded to her mother, grinning. “They’re the Dwarves from her stories!”

Lightly, Mira clucked her tongue at her daughter, but she kept glancing uncertainly at the Company as she spoke. “Don’t be silly, love. Those are just fairy stories, they aren’t… they can’t be…”

Kíli snickered; Bella smacked him on the chest and pulled away from him with a mock-glare. “As the only person here who knows everyone, perhaps I should handle the introductions?” 

She glanced to Thorin, but he only inclined his head to her. “Do as you will, Miss Baggins.”

At that, she was dreadfully tempted to stick her tongue out at him, but (with difficulty) refrained; part of her wondered when all her maturity had flown out the window, but she had a feeling she knew. The imp in question seemed to guess at her impulse, and stifled snickers; she smacked Kíli on the arm before stepping forward. “Well, everyone, this is my Aunt Mira, Mrs. Primrose Bracegirdle, my cousins Flambard and Sigismond, and…”

As she looked around the clearing, she realized they’d collected more of an audience than she’d thought; what seemed to be half of Hobbiton was crowding around, trying to get a good look at the Company. Scoffing lightly, she motioned to the crowd in general. “Well, if I introduce everyone one at a time, we’ll be here ’til Midsummer. Suffice to say that nearly everyone here’s at least a distant cousin of mine.”

“Everyone,” she took a few steps to the side so Mira had a clear view of the Company and Bella could point them out as she named them, “This is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, King of Carven Stone, Lord of Silver Fountains, Mountain-King— did I forget anything?”

Thorin grumbled under his breath, but he was smiling at the familiar tease, and she grinned at him.

“Then there’s Dwalin, Captain of the Royal Guard of Erebor; Nori, the, ah…” She hesitated, knowing how the Hobbits would react to hearing that he was a professional thief.

He grinned to her and saluted Mirabella (with surprisingly little sarcasm). “Spymaster of Erebor, Ma’am, but that only came after our Kitten left the Mountain, so of course she wouldn’t know.”

Groaning, Bella sank her face into her hands. “Nori, would you bl—” A delighted gasp from Primula had Bella changing her mind mid-cuss. “—Be so kind as to stop calling me that?”

“But how can I when it’s such a perfect word for you?” She glared darkly at him, but he only winked at Kíli. “See what I mean? Like a fluffy ickle kitten when she’s spitting mad.”

“I’ll show you ‘spitting mad’, you khûthzul rukhs’utn.” The Dwarves all roared laughing, with the exception of Kíli; the open-mouthed, near-awed way he looked at her made her heart pound and her face flush; she ducked her head self-consciously as the fauntlings all asked what she’d said. Hurriedly, she pointed to the next Dwarf. “Ori’s Nori’s brother, he’s apprentice to the Head Scribe and Advisor to the King, who… is still in Erebor?”

Dwalin nodded genially. “He sends his best wishes if you decide not to come back and his congratulations if you do. Wanted to come, but you know how things are.”

She snorted; she’d heard more about Balin on the journey than she’d spoken to him after the curse broke, as he was in constant motion for the few days she’d been in Erebor. He’d likely stayed to help Dís keep things running smoothly while Thorin and Fíli were gone. “Then there’s Bifur and Bofur, both of them dear friends, and excellent toymakers.”

The entire crowd of children gasped at that, and the two Dwarves found themselves besieged; Bofur tossed her an accusing glance, but she just grinned at him.

Served him right for teasing her so much about her crush on her Lemlel.

Which… he may have been right about; the way she felt to see Kíli standing just there, smiling at her so warmly…

Crush really wasn’t the right word, was it?

Tearing her eyes away from him again, she cleared her throat before smirking at Fíli. “Which brings us to Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor, and the aggravating older brother I never wanted.”

He laughed at that. “Bit too late for second thoughts, isn’t it, Nan’ithê?”

Now she did stick out her tongue, but he just laughed again; sobering, she looked to the last of her Company, and she realized she was smiling. “And Kíli.”

She couldn’t find any further words, never had been able to for him. He was Kíli, and Lemlel, and she didn’t think she could ever find any combination of words that would do him justice, not if she had centuries to write of him. He was Kíli. Her midnight-boy. She’d spent years after leaving Ered Luin trying to write down what she’d seen and felt and known there, and when it came to him, she’d never been able to think of a thing. She could describe Rivendell in a chapter, Erebor in two, their peoples in three each. Fíli would fill half a book, Thorin the rest, the Company altogether would be the sequel. Gandalf would take a encyclopedia. 

But she could fill entire libraries with nothing but her Lemlel, and it would all fall short. So he was, would always be, simply Kíli.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, just looking at each other, but she thought it was at least a few seconds before Primrose’s grating voice shattered the silence. “You can’t actually mean that you’re on first name terms with royalty?!?”

Sighing, jaw clenched, she looked up at the stars through the branches of the Party Tree for a moment before meeting Kíli’s eyes again. “I’m beginning to get very tired of being interrupted. You?”

Visibly restraining laughter, he waggled his brows at her as he opened his mouth, but Fíli spoke before he got the chance. “And what, exactly, is so exceptional about Bella being acquainted with royalty?”

Her brows shot up; that was his ‘I wield the might of Erebor and what did you just say about my family’ tone, and it was being directed solely at Primrose, along with a truly black glare. Thorin looked much the same, and she thought the only reason Dwalin and Nori weren’t charging the older Hobbit was that Ori was holding them back, using every ounce of the ‘Ri strength. The children, inadvertently, were similarly restraining Bifur and Bofur. 

Even after spending close to a year growing accustomed to Dwarven moods and intensity, Bella still felt a chill run up her spine at the threat in his tone; she wondered if she should intervene, but Primrose spoke again before she could think of a thing to say. “A disgraceful Took of a Mad Baggins like h—”

Bella just had time to wince and murmur, “Oh, Lord,” before another voice cut off Primrose’s tirade.

“What. Did. You. Say.” Bella’s eyes shot open at the voice, and she could only gape at the sight of Kíli standing at his full height, glowering as darkly as Thorin did in his worst moods. She knew her midnight-boy, and she knew her friend. But now, for the first time, she truly saw the Prince. 

She wasn’t sure she ought to find the sight as attractive as she did.

Primrose quailed, understandably, but Bella barely even noticed that. It wasn’t until Fíli, still looking murderous, moved forward that she came back to her senses. Gently, she laid a hand on his arm, and he slowed. She chided, just as gently, “Neddar,” and he stopped.

His arm was stone under her hand, and she met and held each Dwarf’s eyes for a moment, making sure all of them understood her meaning: ‘this is for me to handle’. When she reached Kíli, she nearly gave in. To be entirely honest, she very nearly threw herself at him and demanded he give her that toe-curling, intense look somewhere much more private, but she stood her ground and, eventually, stared him down. 

That done, she turned to Primrose to see that she was pale and shaking, and most of the Hobbits in the vicinity were looking at Bella herself with something partway between fear, shock, and awe. Bella kept her eyes on Primrose, though. “I think perhaps you weren’t listening, Primrose. Of course, you never did think much of my ‘fairy stories’. So perhaps that’s why you clearly didn’t remember that I spent the better part of a year with the Heir of a Kingdom, that I saved the life of a Prince of the same Kingdom, and that same Kingdom’s King, himself, insisted that we travel together for some weeks.”

Primrose was still pale, but now her open-mouthed stare was at Bella herself; Bella thought she looked as thought she were seeing a ghost. Thinking of the stories of her mother before her parents married, Bella supposed she might very well have been. “Dwarves don’t stand on ceremony unless there’s official business to be done. They’re sensible like that. But no Dwarf, no matter how high- or low-born, takes insults to them or theirs kindly. And Dwarves do solve a rather ridiculous number of their problems by hitting things until the problem is… dealt with.”

Primrose squeaked and swayed; the Bracegirdle boy who’d run off earlier returned now with the chair, just in time for the woman herself to collapse into it. Mira shook her head slowly. “I think your parents should’ve known better than to name you after my sister.”

Bella grinned, taking the implied compliment in the spirit it was meant. “Funny, I thought I’d rather outdone her.”

Mira snorted. “True; she landed the most eligible bachelor in the Shire, while you seem to have found the most eligible bachelor in Arda.” 

She gave Kíli a lingering once-over as she spoke, and his intensity abruptly disappeared under a vivid, stammering blush; knowing why Kíli found it so hard to take compliments on his appearance, Bella couldn’t really laugh, but Mira did, and tossed a teasing wink to the Prince. Fosco stepped forward with no more sign of his nerves than the way he cleared his throat, and addressed Thorin steadily enough. “We’ll be glad to host you and your party, your Highness, but may I ask for the reason for your visit?”

Thorin’s expression twitched into his uneasy glower, and Bella translated, “You’re scaring the proper Hobbit-y Hobbits, no matter how the rest of us are delighted to see people literally straight out of a fairy story. Did you come for any specific reason, or did you just want to cause some chaos?”

More than a few of the Bagginses in the crowd gasped and chided her for being so rude, but Thorin’s expression eased. “I made you a promise to see you safely home, Miss Baggins. I may not have escorted you here as I intended, but I can at least see the place that would forge someone such as you. The Company missed you, and I believe Kíli’s reasons are for him to tell, not I.”

Aware of the whispering that had erupted at his pseudo-compliments, Bella turned to the Hobbits on the other side of the clearing from Thorin and translated, “He felt it was his responsibility to make sure that I was well, and he’s too paranoid to just send a letter, like a rational person would have. Most Races aren’t as freely helpful as Hobbits, and it took quite a few weeks for me to convince any of the Dwarves I’ve known that I’m not, in fact, unusually altruistic for a Hobbit. He wanted to see if I was telling the truth about that, that’s all.”

Some of the whispers faded as she spoke, but not all; even so, once she was finished, she looked to Kíli, her heart split in two: half-agony, half-hope. The way he held himself (too familiar to her, she only now realized, for her not to have seen him in two decades) was enough for her to lift her hands just in time to settle them on his chest as he pulled her close, his hands burning against her waist even through her dress. He couldn’t quite lay his head on hers without either moving far enough away to crouch or lifting her up to his level. (The latter thought sent a wave of heat through her, only partially from embarrassment.) Even so, he bent his head over hers until his hair nearly blocked all the light in the clearing from his face; she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, but she didn’t care, too enthralled with the feeling of having him so close, even closer than they ever had been in Ered Luin. 

It did feel oddly familiar, though, and a shadow of a dream came back to her, one she’d had in Mirkwood, after meeting Tauriel.

Her breath caught; her hand rose to tuck his hair behind his ear without her being fully conscious of the motion. “You told me. A year and a half ago, you told me I was your One.”

Now his breath caught; he caught her hand as it fell and pressed it to his lips for a long, lingering moment. The simple gesture made her heart pound; he drew her hand away from his mouth only to press it to his chest, over his heart, so she could feel that his heart was racing as quickly as hers. The entire time, his eyes never left hers, dark and intense, but she could see the boyish nerves he was trying to hide. “I came here to offer you my bead, Bella.”

Her heart leapt into a gallop and into her throat, and all she could do was stare dumbly, hopefully. He spoke again, as lowly as he had before, and the way they were standing chest-to-chest made the volume seem almost intimate, though she knew Thorin and Nori, at least, would hear, as well as any number of the Hobbits, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything but his words. 

“I’ve spent twenty-four years thinking of you every day, twenty-three years knowing that you were the one I could trust more than anyone else alive, twenty-two years wishing we could’ve had more time together, two years knowing that you are my One, amrâlimê, marlelê, one year knowing that I could never deserve you, but I can’t let you go until I know,” his voice cracked; his free hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly over her skin as his eyes pleaded, “will you have me anyway?”

Against her will, a half-laugh left her. His eyes flickered, hurt, but she only slid her free hand into his hair, as soft as she remembered. “Lemlelê. You are worth so much more than a fool of a Took like me, but if you’re sure you want me, I’m hardly going to argue, am I?”

The gentle tease did what she intended; a wide grin broke through his tense expression, only interrupted as he pressed his hand to his lips again, closing his eyes as he kissed her palm as though he wanted to be sure she wasn’t an illusion. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and cradled her head in both of his hands; she half-thought he’d kiss her, but he only spoke rapidly. “Are you sure? And we can stay in the Shire, if that’s what you want; Uncle’s already agreed—”

A shocked breath left her at that; she couldn’t imagine Thorin agreeing to be on the other side of Arda from his nephew again for all the gold of Middle-Earth, but when she looked to him, Thorin only nodded gravely. As soon as he confirmed it, she looked back to Kíli, shaking her head. “But you love Erebor!”

Smiling tenderly, he bent down just enough to press his forehead to hers. “I love you, Ibrizûnaê. I’d live in Rivendell if that would make you happy. And you love the Shire, I know you do—”

She cut him off, laughing from joy as much as at his words. “I’m bored of the Shire, you ridiculous man! Why do you think I tell the stories of my adventures so often? I miss living somewhere where things actually happen, where I can do some good! Where you are.” She dropped her voice on the last sentence, and dropped her hand to run it along his still mostly-bare jaw. 

He shuddered at the contact, eyes falling shut, but they opened after a moment or so with a look of such pure hope that she felt a wider grin than she’d worn in more than twenty years tug at her lips. “Coming home with me?”

Impulsively, she stretched up on tiptoes, pulling on his jacket to drag him down as she did, and kissed him on the lips. It was a brief kiss, only lasting a second, if that, but the cheering around her made her glad she hadn’t done anything more than she had. He didn’t seem to hear the people around them at all, though, and pulled her against his chest to spin them both around, laughing. She laughed, too, remembering the dancing lessons he’d tried to give her in Ered Luin. She’d been too short and he’d been too gangly, but it had felt as natural then as it did now.

An angry screech broke the mood, though. They slowed to a stop as Primrose pointed accusingly at them, purple-faced again. “It’s not proper! You can’t travel, not— not—“

Kíli’s arms turned to stone around her, but he subsided when she tapped his chest pointedly; Fíli, though… “And why shouldn’t she? She was perfectly safe in my Company two years ago; we’ve two more warriors now, she’ll come to no harm.”

Sighing, she held one hand toward Fíli, palm out, and addressed Fosco. “He’s offended because he thinks you’re insulting their ability to protect me.” Holding a finger up to the Hobbits, she met Fíli’s eyes. “‘Think’ being the operative word, Neddar. That’s not what she was saying.”

“No, it wasn’t, and I’m sorry, but I have to say I agree.” Fosco shook his head remorsefully. “Bella’s traveling with you was one thing. She obviously had no interest in any of you whatsoever. Traveling with her betrothed is another matter entirely, and from her stories, it sounds like there’s no way for you to guarantee they’ll be chaperoned the entire way.”

The Company muttered, but couldn’t refute it. Bella tapped her finger against Kíli’s chest thoughtfully, then smiled. “I think I have a solution.”

Kíli cocked his head curiously; she matched him innocently. “How long are Dwarven engagements? Or, more accurately, how short can they be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the idea for this, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hope you liked it!  
> Bella’s Khuzdûl cuss translates as ‘Elf-like Orc-man’, which is just about as foul as Khuzdûl gets; ‘Neddar’, on the other hand, means ‘supreme brother’, because it’s starting to be literally impossible for me to ship (fem)Bilbo with any of the Heirs of Durin without giving her a bromance with the other(s).  
> References to Persuasion (like top three Austen romance, seriously), North and South (relationship goals, right there), and Poldark (mostly just in Aiden Turner’s gorgeous face, but still).  
> Also, the epilogue is T-rated, so just to forewarn you. (Granted, if you’ve read my other stories, you shouldn’t be surprised, but even so.)  
> If you decide not to read the epilogue, then á bientôt!


	2. Ever After Has To Start Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En fin.

Bella smiled at the sound of bare Dwarven feet trying to sneak up on her. Faux-casually, she dipped her quill in the inkwell and continued writing. Barely a sentence later, arms encircled her from behind and her husband kissed his way down the side of her neck. She shivered blissfully, but just barely had the presence of mind to set her quill down on the blotting paper rather than the document in progress.

Between kisses, Kíli murmured, “I woke up alone. I feel like that’s a bit impolite on the first day of the honeymoon.”

Her eyes fell shut as his lips found her ear, but she managed to murmur back (if a bit breathlessly), “I need to make arrangements, Lemlelê.”

He groaned and ran his hand over her waist. “It can wait. Come back to bed.”

Grinning, she sank her fingers into his hair. “You mean the bed you barely even fit in? I would’ve thought you’d be eager to get someplace where you can actually sleep.”

A low growl thrummed all the way down her spine as he turned her chair so he could actually kiss her. “Who needs sleep?”

As he deepened the kiss, she pulled him closer, a thrill running through her, same as the night before, to feel his bare skin under her hands. By the time his hand slipped inside her dressing gown several minutes later, she was a hair’s-breadth from saying ‘hang it all’ and going to bed with him for the next month; the sensation of his skin moving over hers was as addictive as the inverse, but she still broke the kiss, if regretfully. “Kíli, if I don’t get this will finished, they’ll auction off all my things before we can send for them.”

Groaning, he drew back enough to meet her eyes sulkily. “What’s the rush for? We’ll have months to ourselves before we even get to Erebor.”

She raised a brow at him incredulously. “You mean the months on end when our brother, your uncle, and the entire Company will be constantly in earshot?”

He froze, a nauseated grimace overtaking his features; she gave him a pointed look and turned back to the desk. Before she could pick up the quill again, though, he lifted her into the air with a salacious grin, carrying her over the threshold of the bedroom as she laughed (again). “All the more reason to make good use,” he kissed her almost as fiercely as she kissed him back, “of the privacy we have.”

Grinning, she loosened the tie of her dressing gown. She could always do the paperwork later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May or may not add another little snippet of them in Erebor, haven’t decided yet. Let me know if you’re interested, and I’ll see what I can do. Á bientôt!


End file.
